


Regrets

by strictlybecca



Series: fifteen pieces of nagron [2]
Category: Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Wake Up Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strictlybecca/pseuds/strictlybecca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir is freaking out. It's made worse by the fact that Agron definitely isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt from tumblr from citymusings for the "wake up married" trope. Sickeningly fluffy.

“You’re freaking out,” Agron says calmly and Nasir fights the urge to throw something at him because _yes,_ he is freaking out and how dare _Agron_ be the one _not_ freaking out. It was unnatural. Nasir was not used to being the calm one in this friendship – it was usually him struggling to wrap calming arms around Agron’s waist, to hold him back from a fight or from lunging across a table to tackle someone who'd said something mildly insulting. 

 

“No, I’m not,” Nasir hisses, tugging wildly at the sheet he had wrapped around him, still struggling to get out of the bed.

 

“You are,” Agron counters in that same, frustrating tone. He tugs firmly on the sheet that Nasir is clutching to his body, prompting a squawk and a slap on the hand from his best friend.

 

“Would you stop it, I’m naked under here!” Nasir snaps, tugging again on the sheet.

 

“Yeah, well, I’m naked under here!” Agron growls back, jerking at the sheet covering his lap – the same sheet Nasir has been trying to pull away for the past ten minutes. “Would you just stay where you are?”

 

“Oh,” Nasir mutters lamely. “Sorry. I just, I-” And Agron can see that Nasir is blushing from head to toe, uncomfortable and uncertain like he almost never is – usually too poised and too calm to be anything but rational and self-aware.

 

“I know,” Agron says placatingly. “But you need to stop freaking the fuck out.”

 

“Agron,” Nasir says pleadingly, “Agron, we got drunken married and we had drunken sex – and absolutely none of this worries you?” _What about our friendship?_ he wants to ask. _Doesn’t it matter to you? Aren’t you terrified this will ruin everything? That it will ruin us?_ Because to be completely and utterly honest, marriage is one thing. But what Nasir has had with Agron for the past year or so has been the most rewarding, wonderful, _ridiculous_ thing in all of creation. Back then, Nasir’s last breakup had been compounded by the loss of a job and typical but terrible family drama – and out of nowhere, Agron had stepped up and been a shoulder to lean on (and a nice looking shoulder at that).

 

Until that point, Nasir and Agron had been friends on the periphery of one another – friends because of friends who were friends – and they could hold a conversation easily and Agron was more than easy on the eyes, but nothing had ever really come of it. And then suddenly, the moment everything turned to absolute shit, all Nasir had to do was turn around and Agron would be there, a cup of coffee in hand and that stupid, puppy dog smile quirked across his lips.

 

Nasir isn’t sure what he would have done without Agron. And he had hoped Agron had felt the same. _But_ , Nasir feels sick to his stomach, if Agron isn’t worried about this, about what this could do to them- well, he isn’t sure that’s something he wants to know.

 

“Why would it worry me?” Agron demands suddenly, twisting to stare Nasir in the eye, the sheet on his lap dipping down distractingly low as he moved. “What’s wrong with being married to me?”

 

“Agron,” Nasir says, trying to sound patient but failing miserably, “You don’t love me.” And wasn’t that just the _worst_ part? Nasir has tried to bite down on the growing feelings over the past few months, has tried to pretend like falling for Agron isn’t the worst thing he’s ever done – but he knows he hasn’t managed it in the slightest. Waking up this morning, aching in all the right places, curled up in strong arms, ring on his finger – it had been something out of a dream. But it had all come crashing down rather suddenly and now, it's all Nasir can do not to hide away in the bathroom, breathing ragged breaths, trying to stomp down on the panic attack he knows is hovering just around the corner.

 

The utter hurt that crosses Agron’s face makes it difficult for Nasir to breathe.

 

“Of course I love you,” Agron says, his tone wounded. “How could you say something like that?” He looks so devastated at the thought that before Nasir can even think twice, he's crawling back across the bed, sheet still wrapped around him, to settle in front of Agron, their knees brushing.

 

“I know you love me,” Nasir hurries to reassure him, “But not romantically. Not the way a husband loves a husband – the way two people need to be if they’re going to be married. To want to wake up next to someone for the rest of your life, to want to make all their favorite foods, to curl up next to while watching crappy horror movies, to go to games and make fun of each other’s teams, to wear each other’s clothes around the house, to take care of – for forever.” And fuck if Nasir hasn’t just described everything he’s ever wanted with Agron. He wonders if there’s a bridge nearby he can throw himself off of, because knowing that this thing with Agron will end, Nasir’s not sure if he can go back to pretending that he doesn’t know how Agron’s body feels beneath his hands, how his mouth tastes against Nasir’s. His gaze falls to his hands and he tries to force himself to breathe.

 

But when he looks up, the way Agron is staring at him makes Nasir’s mouth go dry, his hands clenching and unclenching mindlessly on the sheet in their grip. “Why wouldn’t I want that?” Agron asks quietly. “You’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, Nasir. Why wouldn’t I want all of that with you?” He tries to smile, but Nasir sees the terror behind it. “I mean, I know why you wouldn’t want all that with _me_ , but you’re fucking perfect. You’re so far out of my league, it isn’t even funny.” He reaches out, as if to brush a strand of hair from Nasir’s eyes, but pulls back at the last moment, uncertainty written in every movement.

 

“Shut up,” Nasir demands, snatching up Agron’s hand in his own and pressing Agron’s palm to his cheek, holding it there. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. Not ever.” Nasir closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. “I could only do this if I knew you meant it. If I knew you could love me the way I need you to. Because honestly, you asshole,” Nasir says, huffing out a wet laugh, “No one could ever love you as much as I do.” Agron’s whole face lights up.

 

“I can,” he promises, eager like a puppy, “I already love you more than anyone else and I want this, I’ve wanted this for so long. I’m sorry it happened this way, I wish you’d had more than a drunken Vegas wedding night. Just gimme a chance, Nasir. Lemme be your husband, I promise you won’t regret it.”

 

Nasir knows that this could ruin everything, that this could turn messy and horrible in a blink of an eye – but he can’t possibly think with Agron looking at him like that – like he hung the moon and lit the stars all at once. All he can see is a distant, fuzzy future of the two of them holding hands, rings warm from their bodies, their smiles soft as they look at one another.

 

“I won’t,” Nasir promises, knowing full well that having Agron as his own could _never_ be something to regret.


End file.
